Your Beautiful, Suffering Heart
by Saffron Oliander
Summary: "Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves." An eternal man must be in want of an eternal blood partner. LestatxOC. Dark and twisted, rated M! ;
1. I

**A/N: **I'm bringing this story back! I just couldn't bear to part with it, and I thought you readers might enjoy it. I will warn you, though: it's a lot darker than anything I've ever written, and there will be some graphic scenes of sexuality and sexual violence portrayed here. I might even have to make an _actual_ AFF account instead of lurking there. ;) I'm actually really excited to be working on this again. I've decided I need to work on something with a dark twist in it, to keep my streak of sadomasochism flowing. HA! JOKE! But another notice I'm putting out there is this story will be put on the back burner. Meaning I may not update too regularly, although I do have a few chapters going. Don't hate me for it! And while I continue on with my RAMBLE! I will add that I'd love to see some reviews come to this, because I've never written a story quite like it before and I'd like all you freaks out there to tell me what I've got right/wrong. Reviews=LOVE, remember!

**Disclaimer: I'm sure all of you can guess which two characters I DON'T own. However - Remi and the girls are my creations (though I really don't imagine anyone will steal them).**

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Dramour leans close and pulls my left eyelid taut, drawing a thick black line with a line of kohl. I sit in a lavishly upholstered red velvet chair, facing a mirror that portrays the reflection of a girl I don't recognize. Her dark chocolate hair is elaborately curled and pinned to her head, falling down her back in shimmering waves. Her cheeks have been pinked with rouge, her face lightened with powder and her eyes accented with black kohl and dark eye shadow. Her eyebrows are plucked and shaped, darkened with a lighter shade of kohl.

The stranger in the mirror is dressed in something I have never seen before. It is tight around her small waist; it pushes her chest up and the skirt is long and sleek against her legs. Those very legs, the ones she used to know so familiarly, are encased in sheer tights and she wears tall heels on her tiny feet. Her lips are enhanced with a slash of crimson. The stranger in the mirror is foreign, yet I feel like I know her.

I figure the reflection is supposed to be me.

Dramour leans back and drops the kohl pencil to the counter top, crossing her arms. She looks at me for a long while, pursing her lips, and breaks into a wide smile.

"You look perfect." she says. The girls around us clap their hands in eager agreement. Kopa, dressed in breathtaking sapphire, her blond hair pulled up into a twist atop her head; Maida, gowned in beautiful pale green, her rich mahogany falling in gentle waves; and finally Rena, dark skinned and flawless, dressed in creamy white with her dreadlocked hair pulled into a low bun. Rena reaches forward and fluffs my hair, keeping my curls from going flat. I feel a curl of nervous anticipation in the pit of my stomach as I know my time to go out on stage.

"Don't be nervous, Remi. You're going to do great." Kopa pats my shoulder. I try to smile, but the gesture ends up looking more like a grimace than an indication of comfort. Maida brings her hand close to her face and examines her fingernails idly.

"I don't know, Kopa. Remember how she tripped during her auditions?" she sneers. Dramour swats her shoulder and Maida scowls. Kopa's face puckers. She's always been too sensitive.

"That hardly seems fair to say, Maida. I'm not sure if you remember how I recovered from my fall? Recovered with a move that knocked you to third performance!" I retort. Maida rolls her eyes. She thinks she's top dog because she's been performing longer and is the most popular among customers. Up until now.

I turn in my chair and fix her with a hard look. Maida turns on her heels and stomps off, holding her dress at her hips as she goes. Dramour grins and pushes her ebony hair over her shoulder. She flattens a flyaway strand and gazes at my reflection. I think Dramour is the prettiest. Her hair has a way of shining in even the most subdued light, and no matter how pale the light she seems to always glow. Her dresses accentuate her curvy body perfectly, yet she is the least popular. I figure it's because Maida simply turns heads. She has a certain confidence that immediately draws both sexes, and she's not opposed to women, either.

"You look beautiful. Everyone is going to love you." Rena compliments. I'm surprised – Rena is usually quiet. She performs in silence and refuses to mingle with the patrons, yet she is second favorite.

But I'm about to knock Maida from first post. I stand, smoothing my bloodred dress and shake the nerves from my system. I feel a sudden confidence surge and know instantly that I am ready. Rena takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"The first time is always the hardest," she whispers. I appreciate her support, but I've already psyched myself out for my performance. Dramour leads the way and I am flanked by Rena, followed closely by Kopa. Our skirts swish, especially Kopa's, whose are larger and more elaborate. She has retired from performing and works the floor instead; though she is by no means old. We approach the heavy velvet curtain which is drawn until my performance. Maida leans against the wall, filing her nails.

"Break a leg," she sneers. I have a feeling she means it literally. I hear the voice of Mr. K, the emcee of the night. Kopa, Rena and Dramour surround me, whispering words of advice and good luck. I take a deep breath, the curtain rises and I enter the stage, completely ready to perform.

Luck is on my side. I don't remember much. I do recall countless eyes upon me, both male and female, and the cheering of the crowd. One set, however, had stood out more than the others. Startling, dark eyes had remained riveted on me the entire time. Not even the girls making rounds on the floor could distract him.

When my performance had ended, the other women had welcomed me backstage with open arms and winning smiles. I am a little flushed, but mostly I'm bursting with pride. Even Maida seems impressed, as reluctant as she is to show it. I can tell by the way her eyebrows arch when I come offstage. I have to wonder if it's all a ruse, but for now, I'm enjoying it.

"You did brilliantly!" Kopa gushes. Rena is grinning, her ivory teeth beautific against her ebony skin. Dramour gives me a tight hug, crinkling the satin of my dress.

"I'm so proud of you!" she beams. I have to smile. I feel like I've done brilliantly – exactly as Kopa says. Maida stalks off to make her rounds on the floor. I can't help but giggle.

"Are you ready to go out on the floor? After your performance, I'm sure there's dozens of men waiting to sink their claws into you," Dramour leans in, winking. I shake my head.

"You're terrible!" I chide, linking my arm through hers. Rena nods her head in a silent farewell and disappears ahead of us while Kopa peers through the side of the curtain.

"There're a lot of men out there tonight," she muses. Suddenly, she gasps as though she's lost her breath. "Dramour! Lestat is out there!" she cries. Kopa whirls around, her hand at her heart. She seems to melt into herself, leaning against the wall with a dreamy expression on her face.

"Lestat?" I am forgotten. Dramour shakes free of my arm and pushes Kopa away from the curtain, peering out herself. I wait a few moments before she squeals loudly, sharing the wall with Kopa. "He is! He's here!" she nearly swoons.

"Who is Lestat?" I ask. By this time, my curiosity is raging. I have to see this Lestat before Kopa and Dramour faint. Dramour opens her mouth to speak, but she's interrupted by Maida, who swoops out of nowhere. Kopa has a strange look on her face. She looks conflicted. Maida silences the both of them with a single glare.

"_Lestat_," she interrupts, "is just one of our regulars. He's favored by the two of them." I feel like her explanation is only border-lining the truth. Dramour's face resembles that of a sour lemon and Kopa looks like she wants to add much more. She doesn't dare. I try to peer out of the curtain but Maida sidles in my way. "You'll see him soon enough. Now, let's get you changed!" She takes my hand and yanks me away from Dramour and Kopa. Bewildered, I allow her to tow me along until we reach my dressing station. The candles have all been replaced with fresh ones, giving ample light for my next transformation.

Just as Maida is about to begin her work, Dramour appears and bumps her out of the way with her hip. Maida scowls and steps back reluctantly. I know instantly that Dramour has saved me from Maida's wrath. She winks and begins to pull the pins from my hair, letting all of it fall down my back. Kopa appears, holding my next dress. It is a cream white, almost matching Rena's dress, and draped in fine lace. I stand and Maida helps me out of my first dress, leaving me standing in my nothing more than my shift and corset. I wish they would remove the corset, too, but know it is what keeps my waist tiny and breasts enhanced. Kopa slides this dress over my head easily and fluffs my thick curls. Dramour touches up my face, outlining my eyes once more in kohl and wiping off the crimson lipstick, replacing it with something softer and much paler. She adds a beauty mark under my right eye for added effect. Maida lifts a single curl at the front of my face and pins it to the side of my head with a diamond pin. Her fingers are surprisingly gentle and as I look into her face, I see she wears a torn expression. Her usual sneer is gone.

"Are you ready?" Dramour asks. I nod my head, feeling confident. I can't help but wonder about this Lestat character, but I shove him aside.

"Do you remember the rules?" Maida asks sharply. I look back to her and see her old expression is back.

"Refresh my memory." I command. Maida rolls her eyes.

"No mouth-kissing, no excessive touching and no leaving with a patron." she informs me unwillingly. Kopa puts her arm around Maida's shoulders and shakes her with a single arm. I watch as Maida smiles. I can instantly see the attraction men find in her and as soon as Maida sees me watching her, the smile vanishes to be replaced with a glare.

"Get out there." she growls, shrugging off Kopa's arm and disappearing through the door that leads out to the floor. Kopa takes my hand and drags me toward the door Maida has disappeared through.

"Go on without us. Dramour and I still need to change clothes. Spend a few moments observing the other girls and then get out there!" she encourages. Dramour gives me another trademark wink and the two disappear around a corner to where their dressing tables wait.

I crack the door, trying not to attract attention to myself, and watch what the other girls are doing. I see Maida, making eyes at several men as wanders through the room. She seems to be deliberately avoiding one man – and it's the man that had openly stared during my performance. He is talking to another woman, who is leaning into his lap with an expression of bliss on her face. I see his hands on her legs and wonder if that's the way men will want to touch me.

Some of the other girls have chosen men of their own and are sitting very close to them, almost in their laps. The women have peculiar expressions on their faces. They seem enraptured with the men they are with, even though many of these men are not very attractive at all! I study the way they lean in close, faces almost touching, talking in low voices with one another. Either the men are _very_ funny, or the women are faking it. Laughter fills the room and I can sense that the laughter is not sincere. So the women _are_ faking it!

I learn many valuable lessons before I leave the relative comfort backstage. I am a little hesitant to enter the lion's den, but I'm here for a reason. I take a deep breath, throw my shoulders back and step through the door.

Almost immediately, I can tell that I am what the men have been waiting for. Applause trickles through the room. I smile gratefully and lift my arm in acknowledgement. I find it incredibly easy to sashay through the dark room, pausing by tables at random to chat with the men (and the occasional woman) sitting there. Most of the men seem to talk to my chest instead of my face, and a couple of them request my company. I spend a few minutes at a time with the ones who request me, laughing at things that aren't funny and acting enthralled. Either the men are too inebriated to notice that I am faking, or I'm doing a hell of a job, because no one seems to complain in any way.

One of the last tables I visit is that of the staring man. All night I have felt his eyes on me, and it's unsettled me. The woman he had been entertaining is gone now, and I see her across the room. She is staring over at us, watching me with what seems to be a jealous expression. I lean down, making sure my cleavage is visible.

"Having fun?" I ask. I let as much adoration into my voice as possible. Up close, I'm taken back at how handsome this man is. His eyes command my attention, yet I am able to see that he has shoulder length wavy blond hair, and it's pulled back out of the way. He's dressed nicely, much too nicely to be in a dive like this. Right away I peg him to be some sort of aristocrat, and know that if I can get sponsored by him than I'll be raking in some serious money. This man completely ignores my cleavage and looks at me in the eye.

"An exceptional amount," he replies. "Your performance was marvelous. You move unlike any I've ever seen," his compliment gives me shivers. The voice of this man is mesmerizing. The smooth baritone of his voice begs me to keep him talking. I smile invitingly. He pats the seat next to him.

"Why don't you have a seat?" he suggests. His eyes sparkle and immediately I obey. The tiny candle in the red votive on the table top burns brighter than the others, casting us in a lustful red glow. I sit close to him, but it doesn't seem to be enough to him. His hand travels up my calf and pulls my leg, hitching it over one of his.

His touch sends shivers down my spine. He leans in close. I can smell pipe tobacco on him, as well as a cloying, metallic smell that I cannot place. His shirt collar has the tiniest spot of red on it, but I don't think he minds it.

"So tell me," he breathes. His voice is even more enchanting on a lower level. "How did you get involved with Madame Hirsch?" he asks, referring to the Madame of the house. She owns all of us girls in a sense, and we work for her and for ourselves. I think for a moment, trying to come up with the best answer that is both endearing and charming, while still trying to retain a little bit of myself. I smile.

"I came into some bad company," I tell him. I'm trying to play the part of the reluctant flirt. "I got in a little over my head." I chuckle breathily and lower my lashes. This man is so handsome! His eyebrows are mysteriously darker than his hair; almost black in color.

"Remi?" I look up and over. Dramour is standing in front of our table, eyes glued to the man I'm talking to.

"Dramour, make yourself scarce." The man instructs harshly. His voice is sharp, not at all what I've been hearing. He hasn't even looked over to see who was talking. His eyes have stayed glued to me the entire time. I look back to him hesitantly, then to Dramour once more.

"Is there something you need, Dramour?" I ask. I don't mind her interrupting our conversation, but this is _my_ time. She hesitates.

"I see you've met Lestat," she states flatly. I can read the jealousy on her face like an open book. Her voice drips with it. A small smile plays at the corner of Lestat's mouth. His lips are a warm pink. I am completely blown away; I've never known Dramour to show me anything other than kindness!

"Dramour, leave. Now." Lestat's voice is cold and measured. A look of hurt crosses Dramour's face and she turns. I can see that Dramour has spent extra time dressing. She looks too good to be planning on doing much more than the floor. Her dress glitters with beads and sequins. I look back to Lestat, who has fixed me with a searching look.

"Was she bothering you?" I ask. All pretenses of flirtation are gone. I'm annoyed that he sent her away so harshly.

"Not particularly." he replies. Lestat picks up his wineglass and takes a sip of the red liquid inside. "Care for a taste?" He offers the glass to me and I shake my head. Madame Hirsch would kill me if I soiled her dress.

"If she was of no bother to you, then why did you send her away?" I ask point-blank. He watches me for a moment. My blood is boiling. I do not like the way he's treated Dramour. I consider her my closest friend.

"My, you are very spirited," he observes. I pull back, away from him and move to get up. He snatches my hand and pulls me back down to the bench. "If it pleases you, I can have her come back," he tells me. The damage is done, and I'm through with him for the night.

"I'm sorry, I must go. I'm wanted elsewhere." I stand again. Annoyance touches his features.

"Remi, sit back down." he orders. I take a step back.

"No." He opens his mouth as if to speak again, but by that time I am already sauntering away. "Remi!" he calls. I ignore him, moving my hips to show him what he can't have tonight. Maybe in another week I'll talk to him again. Until then, I've got to find Dramour.

I pass through the door backstage once again and am enveloped in a world of chaos. Everywhere people are moving about; getting costumes ready, prepping the other girls, tidying up countless stations. I make my way to Dramour's station, but she isn't there. Rena is lounging on a plush divan in the corner, flipping through a newspaper. She is dressed in a snow white dress with accents of black lace and beading.

"Rena, have you seen Dramour?" I ask. She nods her head and points down the corridor to where there are numerous rooms for the girls to relax in. The only good thing about that is each girl gets her own room. I thank Rena and move down the hallway until I reach Dramour's door and let myself in. She is lounging a divan exactly like Rena, although hers is emerald green. That's Dramour's color. She says green was the color she first performed in, so I expect red will become mine. Dramour's eyes narrow as soon as she sees me.

"What do you want?" she asks crossly.

"Dramour, don't be mad at me," I join her on the divan, lifting her feet and sliding underneath them, setting them on my lap. She immediately snatches them away and gets up from the divan, crossing the room and staring at her reflection angrily. She applies more rouge to her cheeks and tries to ignore me.

"What's the deal with Lestat, anyway?" I ask. "I don't understand what he is to you and Kopa," I say. Dramour sighs. She can't stay angry – it's against her nature.

"Lestat has always been that sixth element. He's mysterious, beautiful, enchanting." She wants to say more, I can tell. Yet something is keeping her from it. She hasn't explained anything.

"So? There are plenty of men like that." I retort. She shakes her head.

"You are so naïve, Remi. He's much more than that," The older woman glances my way. She isn't more than five years my senior, but I look up to her as if she were older than that. She reaches up and shakes her curls. She doesn't offer any more explanation.

"Like?" I throw my hands in the air. I'm growing tired of this mysticism. She simply shakes her head. I realize that I've come here for her, and I don't need to listen to her attempts at explanation. "Look, Dramour, I just came in here to say that I was sorry for his rudeness. It isn't my place to apologize, but I felt like your feelings were hurt. So, sorry." I get to my feet, smooth my dress and make my way to the door.

"Wait," Dramour calls. I turn, hand on the doorknob. "Just… watch yourself around Lestat, okay?" she offers. I can tell she's serious. She's wringing the life out of a washcloth as she speaks. I process her words.

"Thanks," I say. I've no idea what she means, but I'll take her words to heart.

I leave her room and return to my station. Rena is gone from the divan and I'm all alone backstage, but I don't mind.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look scores different from the girl I used to be. I stand, go back to the door and peer out. Lestat is gone, to my relief. I was planning on returning to the floor and ignoring him, but I realize how difficult that would be with his dark eyes fixed completely on me.

I return to the floor and visit with countless other patrons, until Madame Hirsch appears.

"You are done for the night, Remi." she tells me. Her heavy French accent makes it hard for me to understand what she says, but I've learned to understand most of what she's saying. I smile with relief. I exit the floor quickly. I go through a separate door, one that leads to a tiny staircase closely walled in. Portraits of previous girls employed by Madame Hirsch hang on the walls, some dusted with age, others looking fresh. I see one of Maida near the top, looking her finest. Of course, I see Maida's smiling face every morning and night at this staircase. I live here, after all.

My room is the very last in the hall. I've got a brass nameplate on my door, spelling out my name in beautiful flowing script. I reach up and grab the key I always keep on the top of the door frame and unlock the door, pushing the heavy door open and enter. I lock it quickly behind me. These girls may tell me they're my friends, but I wouldn't put it past a couple of them to steal my belongings.

My room isn't much. I only have a bed, a desk for writing, a dresser covered in various beauty products to keep what little clothes I own and a huge gilded mirror. The good part about the bed is that it's huge. It could probably fit five different people in it. I pull the lacy dress over my head and let it fall to the floor, suddenly exhausted. I stand in front of the mirror and turn slightly, enough so I can see my back, and reach to unlace my corset. I get it off easily enough and when it falls to the floor, I breathe a giant sigh of relief. I drift over to my bed and crawl in it, pulling the covers up to my chin and sinking into down, getting comfortable.

My eyelids are heavy and it doesn't take long before I am asleep.

I wake early the next day – its mid-afternoon. Everything is exactly as I left it when I get myself ready for the day. I pull on the simple blue dress that I wear almost every day until it's time to dress for the night. I unlock my door, hearing shouts in the hall.

It's Maida, of course. She is standing in the hall, clutching a dress to her chest. Madame Hirsch stands at the top of the staircase, glaring. Maida looks defiant, but she does not dare to defy Madame Hirsch. Maida looks like she could murder. A few of the other girls have cracked their doors too, wondering what the commotion is about.

"Madame, you _can't!_" Maida pleads. Madame Hirsch takes a few angry steps in her direction.

"Vous dix prostituée de dollar! You are not worth my time!" Maida flinches. I wonder what's wrong. Her face puckers and for a moment, it looks like she might cry.

"I didn't have a man in my room!" she cries. "He was not here!" Surprise flickers through me. Maida broke the rules? Madame Hirsch crosses the distance between them in three angry steps and slaps Maida across the face. Maida falls to the ground, holding her stinging cheek. There is a rumble among the other girls; no doubt they are as happy as I am to see Maida finally slapped. She allows the dress she is holding to fall to the floor, and all of us gasp.

Maida is wearing nothing more than a black corset, black tights and a glittering necklace. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she's been intimate with a man. There is also the remnants of a mouth-sized wound high up on the side of her neck, but from a few of the stories some of the other girls have told me, I know a handful of the men are biters.

"You are on house arrest, _ma chérie_. Do not leave this room." she instructs. Madame Hirsch snatches up her dress and throws it behind Maida, into the room. She spits on the ground and turns on her heels, her skirts swishing, heels clacking. The girls exchange loaded looks with one another.

"Well, then," I say. Maida's head snaps my way. Her pleading expression has vanished and is replaced with one of fury.

"What did you say?" she demands. The other girls fall silent, nervous and waiting for my reply. I am not scared of Maida. I lean against my door and look down at her.

"Nothing . . . I just think you're getting exactly what you deserve. Your time at the top is _over_, Maida. You're being dethroned." I tell her. Maida gets to her feet, slow and deliberate. Her eyes are burning with hate. The girls hold their breath. To show just how unafraid I am of her, I take a few steps into the hall and cross my arms. Maida is tiny without her heels and only comes to my shoulders. Despite her petite frame, I know she is strong.

But I'm stronger.

She seems to sense the intimidation that I'm exuding, but she doesn't let it show.

"And who's going to do that, Remi?" she coos my name sweetly. I get into her face.

"I am." Maida raises her eyebrows and starts to laugh. She puts her hands on her hips and looks up at me. "Please. You're nothing without my coaching, _Remi_." This time she spits my name out.

"Maida, I don't necessarily think that's true," Dramour appears out of nowhere and stands at my side. If there's one girl in the house that Maida refuses to start conflict with, it's Dramour. More than once she's proved her strength by breaking up bar fights with angry, inebriated men. Maida seems to shrink back. "Do you remember who coached _you_ when you arrived?" The look on her face says she wants anything else than to remember her coach. "I did."

I look over, surprised. I had no knowledge that Dramour had been Maida's coach. Maida's face sours and she turns to retreat into her room.

I have won. The girls erupt into cheers as soon as Maida's door closes. Dramour grins along with me and nudges my arm.

"Welcome to the top," she tells me.


	2. II

**A/N: **I hope you readers are enjoying this so far, even though not much has happened! It's going to pick up here pretty soon, promise. In the mean time, how about sending some reviews my way? God, I'm such a review whore!

**Disclaimer: I'm sure you can guess which two characters I _don't_ own, but just to make sure: I don't own Lestat or Louis! They are the property of Anne Rice. Everyone else, however, are figments of my imagination and have thusly been created by ME. 3**

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Two weeks have passed.

I dress alone, getting ready for my second week's performance. I am standing in front of my mirror, studying my reflection. Dramour has already lined my eyes in kohl, plumped my lips with a neutral, shiny coat of lipstick and enhanced my eyes with pure white shimmery eye shadow. She's given me another beauty mark, this time near my upper lip. My chocolate hair is once again curled, this time in tighter ringlets that bounce and sway with the slightest movement. I slid a rose pin into my hair; pushing some of the curls away from the right side of my face and put in some earrings. My ears, freshly pierced, hurt slightly.

Maida has yet to make an appearance. She's laid low for the past two weeks, refusing to stand out and perform. Instead she works the floor and stays off the stage.

Lestat has been to the House every night since my first performance. He is always watching me with his dark eyes, scrutinizing my every move. Each time I look over to him and find his eyes on me, I feel a secret thrill and a surge of electricity. I've never had any man give me so much uncensored attention.

Especially not someone so beautiful.

Every night he is alone and every night since our first encounter he refuses the company of the other women. It hurts me to see the way he coldly refuses the women, especially Dramour and Kopa. Many times I've been approached by either Lana or Zulu or whomever it may be, telling me that Lestat specifically requests my company. And when I refuse, he watches me with impassive, angry eyes.

Yet I cannot crush the feeling that he enjoys the chase. He likes to see my blush, and he like to see the way I pass by his table with nothing more than a look and a smile.

Eventually, I decide to humor his requests.

"Remi," Anno approaches me as I am visiting with an older gentleman. "Lestat requests your company," she tells me. By the annoyed look on her face I can see that he's turned her down many times before. I sigh, touch the man's hand and politely excuse myself from his table.

"Has he been asking for me all night?" I ask her. She shrugs. I look his way and see him leaning back against the plush upholstered seat, his arm over the back of it where I am to sit. My heart gives a gentle squeeze. I take a deep, steadying breath and throw my shoulders back, as I always do before going onstage or performing in any way. I take confident steps in his direction and when I reach his table, and stand with my hip cocked to the side. His eyes burn into me.

"So, you've finally decided to grace me with your presence?" his voice is measured and I sense the anger hiding behind it. I bite back a sharp retort and smile instead.

"I must apologize, Lestat," I say coyly. He quirks his eyebrow. "My company is in high demand," I lean over his table and beckon him to lean forward. He does so, and I turn his head with my fingertips. "I'm a very beautiful woman." I laugh flirtatiously, and Lestat chuckles along with me.

"Please, have a seat. I'd like to enjoy your company now while I have you." I feel a little nervous about sitting in such close confines with him, but the look on his face makes it hard for me to refuse. I come around the table and join him in the booth. A look of pleasure crosses his face; he's glad I've finally joined him. Lestat's arm settles over my shoulder and pulls me closer to him.

I feel suddenly wanted on a higher level, and that feeling fills me with warmth. Lestat pulls my face close to his and chuckles darkly. I am close enough to feel the heat of his breath.

"So tell me, Remi, what sort of sponsors have you earned thus far?" His voice is low and intimate. His hands play with the stockings on my thighs, and that feeling gives me an electric thrill. I reach up and run my fingers through his wavy hair. His blond locks are soft, yet they have the slight coarse feeling that men's hair has. Lestat waits for my answer, stone still, feeling my touch. I know he likes my attention.

"I have no sponsors as of yet," I tell him. "But this it just between you and I," I add confidentially. Lestat pulls back slightly, raising his eyebrows.

"No sponsors?" he asks, definitely surprised. "An enthralling, beautiful flower such as yourself? I find that hard to believe." he says.

"It's true, Lestat," I admit. "I have yet to find a sponsor I like." A peculiar expression crosses his face. I feel his arm pressing into my back, pushing me closer to his body. I'm sitting too awkwardly to be comfortable, so I push my leg over his and move myself onto his lap.

This is the extent of what I'm allowed to do with other men. I can sit on their laps, play with their hair and clothes, but I am not allowed to kiss them on the lips. I can kiss anyplace else that isn't clothed, and I can allow the man to kiss me anyplace that isn't clothed. Lestat's lips trace a line over my jaw. I shiver and pull back slightly. Lestat laughs.

"One that you like? Remi, you will not like every sponsor you come across." he tells me. There is a strange emotion coloring his voice. His eyes sear mine and I can't stand his heavy gaze, so I look down. I imagine I look demure. I move my hands and play with the ruffles on the front of his shirt. He wears a gray and blue jacket made of the softest velvet. I run my hands over the face of his jacket and notice that there is another tiny red stain deep in between the ruffles of his collar. I feel Lestat's hands on my back-end and it startles me. I jump and Lestat bursts into laughter.

"What if I were to sponsor you?" he suggests. I lean back a little. Lestat puts his hands on my waist, so I push them away. There's too much contact happening between us. A flash of anger touches his features, but it is quickly pushed away. He grabs hold of my elbows instead, keeping me from falling back.

"You would sponsor me?" I ask in disbelief. A smile graces his soft-looking lips. I smile; making sure it looks as alluring and excited as possible.

"Of course." He reaches up and strokes my hair. The intensity of his gaze and the gentleness of his touch are starting to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. I am sitting in front of the red candle on the table, blocking most of the light. It might be my imagination. . . But it looks like Lestat's eyes are lighter than they used to be. They seem to now be a milky gray color, but the gaze is still as piercing and intense as before.

I feel other stares boring into my shoulder blades and know that the other women are watching our interaction.

"That would be… perfect." I say, smiling. I find myself throwing my arms around his neck tightly. My breasts brush his chest and that seems to elicit a response from him. His breath catches in his throat and I consider letting him go, but my sponsorship rides on my affection for him. I feel his hands on my back. I lean back slightly and kiss his cheek.

"Remi!" My voice is called. I turn my head and see Madame Hirsch bustling my way. Immediately I think I have broken the rules by the tone in her voice.

"Madame, I just kissed his cheek!" I defend quickly. A smile breaks out on her aged face.

"No, no, _ma chérie._ It is not you. Maida is worrying me. She is in the back packing her things to leave! You must come and persuade her to stay!" Madame Hirsch grabs my arm and yanks me to the side, nearly pulling me to the floor. Luckily, Lestat catches my other arm and steadies me just in time. Hurriedly, I slide off his lap, pushing my skirts down quick enough to keep my modesty. I am towed violently across the floor; Lestat watching me go with impassive eyes and an expression of anger. Madame Hirsch pulls me through the backstage door and I begin to hear a commotion. As we grow nearer, I realize it is Maida shouting and throwing things around her station room. She has pushed her dress rack over and all of her expensive garments lie wasted on the floor. The walls and ground are dusted with her face powder and a streak of rouge dominates the mirror. Maida is shouting, but I do not understand what she's saying. Anno, Dramour and Rena are gathered at her door, watching the fit with apathy in their eyes. Maida utters a few words in her native Russian and stomps on an apple red dress, leaving powdery footprints.

"Maida!" I cry. She stops, distracted, only to shriek out in anger when she see's it's me.

"You!" She leaps across the room, hands outstretched. I have barely enough time to dodge to the side to avoid her chokehold.

"Maida!" Dramour gasps, reaching out to try and hold her down. Maida is cursing in Russian, her eyes blazing. I am furious – how dare she attack me! Next it's Anno that needs to hold me back for I've reached out and am yanking at her hair. Maida screeches and kicks out, her feet coming dangerously close to my face. I strain against Anno's arms, screaming.

"You insolent whore! Vous la gigolette ingrate de taverne!" Madame Hirsch picks up an empty jar of powder and chucks it at Maida. It hits her in the chest, leaving a powdery circle. Maida stops, breathing heavily. Her anger is fading fast. I am staring angrily, my chest heaving. Dramour is looking at me with new eyes and Maida seems almost hesitant to continue this fight.

"I find you in bed with a man and allow you to stay in the House. Next you throw a royal fit and threaten to leave? I think not!" I have never seen Madame Hirsch so angry before. Anno's arms loosen slightly around me and I shake them off. I won't touch Maida now, not with Madame Hirsch so angry. Maida opens her mouth to speak, but a single glare from Madame Hirsch silences her.

"You do not get to speak. Maida, I've had enough of you. You act like a ruler when you are anything but. I brought Remi back here to see if she could persuade you to stay, but no longer do I want your regal behavior poisoning the air around here! I'll give you the rest of the night to pack your belongings. Then, I want you out! Vous n'êtes pas la valeur mon temps!" She bellows. This is the _loudest_ I've heard Madame Hirsch, too. She is an older woman, but I can still see her former beauty. Not to mention she used to be a French opera singer, so she's got a set of lungs on her. Maida's face puckers.

"Madame Hirsch-" Dramour tightens her grip, choking off her voice. She can't wait to see Maida gone. Maida's eyes narrow.

"Fine! I will go! But this House will be _nothing_ without me!" she shrieks. Maida struggles against Dramour's gasp until she finally let go. Maida snatches her gowns up from off the floor and produces a suitcase and stuffs the dresses inside. Kopa and Zulu have joined us now. I can tell it takes all of Kopa's strength not to cheer aloud. We all know Kopa hates Maida. It was the first thing she told me, in fact. I cross my arms and watch with a stony expression. Madame Hirsch pulls her skirts up away from the floor and whirls around, storming off. I follow, suddenly remembering Lestat's offer to sponsor me.

"Madame Hirsch, wait!" I follow her into her office. She shuts the door behind us. I haven't actually ever been inside her office before, and I'm surprised at how lavish it is. She has a large, heavy oak desk covered in paperwork. Three tall candles line the front of her desk, spilling light over her work. On her walls she has portraits of her previous women; the ones who've long since retired. I sense Madame Hirsch has been in the business for a very long time.

Madame Hirsch sinks into a plush chair, still fuming. She sighs and gives me a look.

"You know you'll have to work extra hard now that Maida is leaving, right?" she asks. I swallow – I've been expecting this.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But Madame Hir-" I begin.

"And that you'll need to schedule two performances nightly instead of one?" she interrupts. I nod my head, understanding.

"Madame Hirsch, I have a potential sponsor!" I exclaim, not bothering to wait until she finishes. Her eyebrows raise.

"Do you know what it means to have a sponsor, dear, Remi?" she asks. Madame Hirsch leans back in her chair and clasps her hands together over her stomach. I shake my head. There's more to it than just receiving money?

"No?" Madame Hirsch sighs with a slight smile. She finds me endearing.

"When one of my girls gets a sponsor, it means more than just money for the House. It means that girl will be obliged to be at her sponsor's beck and call at all times of the day. She will accept gifts from him and perform favors for him anytime he asks." Madame Hirsch explains.

"Perform favors?" I echo, confused. A wicked smile crosses her face.

"Sexual favors, dear." she says. There's no way I could do something like that! "Remi, are you still pure?" Madame Hirsch asks. I know she is asking if I've ever been with a man before. I blush and shake my head 'no'. Her smile grows wider.

"If your sponsor knows that, he'll pay extra for you, which results in extra money for the House. Pray tell, dear, who your sponsor is?" She leans forward, expectantly.

"Lestat." I say. Suddenly, her face goes white as a sheet. Her hand drifts up to cover the side of her neck and she gasps aloud.

"Lestat!" she gasps. I'm confused. What is the deal with Lestat? First Dramour and Kopa, then Maida, now Madame Hirsch?

"What's wrong?" I ask, leaning forward and reaching out. She shrinks back.

"Nothing!" Madame Hirsch insists. Her hand falls from her neck but her face stays white as snow. I raise my eyebrows. "He will make an. . . excellent . . . sponsor for you, dear." she manages to say. She ruffles through some paper idly.

"Do you know him?" I ask. She looks up quickly.

"Yes, dear, I, uh, know Lestat." she tells me, returning instantly to her paperwork. I can tell this is my cue to leave.

"So… do you talk to him?" I ask. She nods without a single glance to me. "Then I'll just see you later, Madame Hirsch." I stand and see myself out. My mind returns to our conversation, thinking over everything she's said. I'm not sure I can handle the "sexual favor" aspect of sponsorship, especially with Lestat.

I make my way up the stairs and return to my room silently, thinking of what the next few days will bring. I will become a sponsored woman and have to do ungodly things with a man I am not married to. Maida will be banished from the House and I may unintentionally make enemies with Dramour and Kopa. I know they are enraptured with Lestat, and just the thought of hurting those two makes me ill to my stomach. I strip down to my slip and crawl in bed, letting the quiet of my room steal over me and pull me under.


End file.
